Thru These Tears
by georgiastark
Summary: Annabeth was his everything. His literal everything. His in and out. He was her everything, her in and out. They were fucked up, but it was okay. Because they had each other, and they had outside help, thanks to their therapist John. Everything was good until it wasn't.
1. We're Okay

**I don't own Percy Jackson**

 **Enjoy;**

* * *

"Your taste in music is shit, Seaweed Breathe." Annabeth teased. I flash her the smile I'm famous for. She doesn't respond. "I don't understand this." She huffed. I pull myself up, hanging my head on her shoulder, looking at the worksheet in her lap.

"Legal stuff?"

"Yep. What the fuck is this question? Discuss the extent to which limitation of actions upholds at least one of the principles of justice? This is all bullshit. I don't understand." She huffs. I take the sheets from her, kissing the side of her head. "I'm just so tired."

"So am I. So, no homework, okay? You're still recovering, and so am I. We're not doing good. You do not have to be working."

"Dork." She mumbles back. "What can I do without work?"

"Me?"

"Fuck off."

"You have a pimple, can I get it?" I don't wait for a response, pulling myself up to her, her leaning against my waist, turning her head into me, squeezing the pimples until they pop.

"We're weird, Perce. We're really weird."

"Yeah." I sit down, grabbing my phone. Annabeth continues to work. Enjoying being with each other. I turn off my phone after a bit, watching her work. Her writing quickly, pausing, reading. Eyebrows rising in confusion, then more writing. Her pushing her hair behind her ear, bouncing the pen on my leg as she thinks about what else to do.

"Are you watching me?"

"Maybe." I hum in response. She leans her head back, flipping her bottom lip out, frowning at me. "What? You're too cute not watch."

"Fuck off."

"Never." I push her work away, pulling her into me, kissing her neck, her check, the top of her head. "I love you."

She giggles, pressing her forehead against mine, connecting our noses and heads; "I love you more."

"I love you most."

* * *

Annabeth stood in front of me, chatting as she chopped the vegetables for dinner, water boiling in the background. She's mostly talking about her university options, saying she's considering New Rome, but mostly mortal universities.

Each chop is the same, rhythmic. Chop after chop after chop. The boiling water growing louder and louder. I can't hear Annabeth talking anymore, but I can see her mouth moving. The chops are getting louder and louder, pounding getting louder and louder in my eyes. The boiling reaching all the extremes.

I take a slow, deep breathe. Trying to calm myself, trying to control the sudden tightness in my chest, the bouncing of my leg that is becoming almost uncontrollable. I try divert the energy, bouncing my leg faster, tapping my fingers hard against the table top. In any anxious attempt to keep the panic attack at bay.

Then shit hits the fan. The water boils over, Annabeth curses loudly, and all the attempts to keep myself calm fail. I take a deep breathe, but it fails. Turning into sharp, fast, shuddering breathing, hands shaking out of control. Everything burns, I try rub my arms, my face. The burning on my skin itching, screaming to be touched, but screaming if something touches it. Eyes stinging, the tears cooling my skin slightly, but not much.

"Don't touch me." I gasp out. Annabeth turns, her face paling upon realising what's happening. She moves forward. I want to move away, but my legs won't respond to my brain.

"Ground yourself, do you remember how?"

"Don't touch me." I repeat, pulling myself into her, holding my face into hers shoulders. She doesn't move her arms, but continues to whisper to me. She doesn't move her arms, and I continue breathing into her. As the panic slowly fades away, and Annabeth's voice becomes clearer and clearer.

"Can I touch you?" She asks, still whispering. I nod into her chest, and within seconds her arms are under my shoulders, pulling me up, closer to her. "You're here, with me. In the apartment. We're here, we're okay. We're alive. We're safe. You're safe. I'm safe. We're making a shitty dinner, with shitty vegetables and pasta. And we're okay."

I play with her hair, wrapping strands around my fingers, allowing myself to become calmer and calmer. "We're okay."

She pulls away from me, her hands in my hair. "Tell me next time. Okay, Seaweed Brain?"

"Okay, Wise girl."

"Pasta, vegetables and some of the chicken from last night. Sounds like a good dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, it wasn't too much of a bad one. I think I can still eat."

"You can always eat, Babe." She teases, smiling softly. I push at her softly. "Come help me, it will distract you from it all?" I don't want to move, but her hands are tightly in mine, pulling me up after her, following her to the cutting board, wrapping my arms around her waist. I balance my head on her shoulder, watching her cut a few vegetables, before she holds a knife up to me. I take it from her, not really wanting to move out of the way of her, but she slips away, heating the chicken and pasta. Clicking on the stove for the chopped vegetables.

"Calm?"

"Yeah. Thank you. Remind me again how lucky I am to have you?"

"Hm?" She hums, pressing her lips against my shoulder. "Do you want to continue complimenting me, and saying how amazing and beautiful I am?"

"Annabeth Chase, you are so amazing and perfect. How did I get so lucky to have fallen completely in love with you. I love you, so much."

"I love you more." She hums, her arms now wrapped around my waist. "And most. I love you more and most."

* * *

Annabeth sits between my legs, head bobbing as she dozes to sleep. Waking up and lifting her head up, blinking her eyes. Her head back against mine, her hair tickling my head, my neck.

I can feel sleep slowly overtaking me, until Annabeth tenses in my arms, and lets out a small cry, begging to be let go. Begging to stop being tortured. I shake her softly, whispering her name. But it doesn't work. I shake her again, a bit rougher again. She mumbles in reply, tears slipping out of her eyes.

"You're with me, shh." I mumble into her ear, but she doesn't respond. I move down, turning her to lay facing my chest, her arms wrapping around mine, still mumbling, crying. Flashbacks flicking through her mind, all of _there_. Of that hell scape, that place that destroyed us.

We stay like this, shaking her softly, muttering until her eyes flick open, and she tightens her grip; "Percy…"

* * *

Cocopops are a morning thing. Annabeth is beside me, sitting in a band shirt she stole from me, and a pair of my boxers. I teased her that I was stealing her panties in return. She had laughed at me, saying be my guest.

She had almost passed out from laughing so hard when I walked out in them, changing quickly into my normal boxers, poking her for laughing so hard.

"I always get so tired in the mornings. I think we gotta stop having sex first off. It tires me out so much."

"Hm?" I reply, my mouth full over milk and cereal.

"Who am I even kidding, I love it. Ignore me, I'm just worrying about why I'm tired. Do you have therapy today?"

"Yeah. I told you about the PTSD diagnosis yeah?"

"Yeah. Is John good?"

"Thinking of going?"

"It helps you, may as well work for me too. I need help for panic attacks, just simply. They fucking suck."

"They really fucking suck. I have therapy at I think 12. We can go for lunch after?"

"Nah. Lunch here, then we can just cuddle forever."

"What a romantic." I tease. She grabs my hand, kissing it.

"What a tease."

* * *

"How was the session? Perce?" Annabeth is watching TV when I enter again.

"He said I'm depressed. I don't think I'm depressed. Do you think I'm depressed?"

"A little. But so I am." She is up, watching me run hands through my hair.

"I don't understand. I don't want to. I. I don't understand? He said its probably just severe seasonal depression. But we can't know for sure until summer. It's a symptom of PTSD, so it makes sense." I fade off, and her hand is on my arm. "I don't want to feel like this."

"Which is?"

"Grey. Sad. Suicidal. The usual. You?"

"Grey, anxious. Craving death. We're a match made in heaven." She mumbles. I smile at her, fiddling with her (my) shirt, pulling her in tightly. "We'll get through this. We always will. I promise you."

"I told John that you wanted to see him as well, he has your number now. We just have to go to the GP, so you can see him legally." I tell her. She nods into her chest, her arms around my waist, hands playing with the rim of my shirt.

"Thanks, Seaweed Brain."

"I'm not so much of a Seaweed Brain, huh? I'm organising your therapy sessions."

"Shush, you. Left overs for lunch?"

"If take out's for dinner, yes."

* * *

"I can't deal with these nightmares, Annie. I can't deal with them." Her arm is over mine, rubbing me slowly. Tears are falling thick and fast, the panic simmering underneath all the emotions. Her knuckles are rubbing against my skin, kissing the other side of my body. "I feel so sick."

"Do you need to get up?" I pause before answering her, but I barely can before my throat feels full, and I push her off, running to the bathroom. Barely making it to the toilet, leaning over it. Annabeth is in after me, hand on my back. "You're okay. It's going to be okay."

"It doesn't feel like it." I mutter, leaning over the toilet again, my throat burning as more hits the toilet. "This feels so fucking endless."

"It's just hard right now. It's just hard now. Because its different. We don't have a quest. It's quiet. It's different to us. It's strange, I know. But we're together, so it's okay."

* * *

The apartments pool was always hot, the window fogging up from the heat. I pull myself up to the wall of the pool, my checks slightly hot from the physical exhaustion. Annabeth was laying on a pool chair, reading some book that I didn't give a shit about.

"Come swim with me?"

"I'm reading."

"So?" I coax. She raises her eyes from the book, as I pull myself out. She doesn't reply, looking me up and down slowly. "Are you checking me out?"

"Am I not allowed?"

"If you don't come swimming, no." She groans, folding a page, climbing into the pool with me.

"No races."

"Just one?"

"No!"

"Is it because you know you won't win?"

"Percy, need I remind you. You're the son of the sea god. You will always win."

"Come on…" I try, holding her arms, kicking my legs benth me in the deep water.

"You just want to nickname me Loser for the week."

"You won at our last competition. It's my turn."

"Fine." She drops under the water, pushing off. I can almost hear her laughing, saying she gets the head start.

I push off after her, breaking into an easy sprint-freestyle, easily beating her.

"Loser." I tease. She splashes water. "Don't even try."

"Bitch."

"A sore loser?" I question. She splashes water again, then pulls close to me, wrapping an arm around my neck.

"Jerk."

* * *

I sink to the bottom of the pool, no sound reaching me. Calmness. Everything is quiet. Everything is different to how it was ten minutes ago, screaming at each other for the stupidest reasons.

Annabeth had another quest. I didn't. I wasn't in the quest. It was her and a new kid.

I begged her not to go, begging that I was worried about her. I was worrying that she could die. She denied that she could.

"I'll be fine. I have that kid, Tyler. We'll be fine."

"But what if you aren't?"

"I'll be careful. I promise, okay?" She took my hands, but I pulled away. Glaring at her.

"What if you die?"

"I won't."

"Tyler is too young… What if. What if you're overwhelmed? Anything could happen, this is so dangerous."

"PERCY I'M PERFECTLY CAPABULE."

"I'M NOT DENYING THAT! I'm _worried_ about you. I'm really worried about you."

"You're worried about yourself. This is selfish."

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO DIE, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK?"

"BELIEVE IN ME!"

"I do." I rack my hands through my hair, shaking with anger. I take a long, rough breathe out of my nose, and another one in. "I just hate that I can't protect you."

"Then you don't believe in me." She is standing close to me, hands crossed over her body. "If you believed in me, you would let me go."

"I believe you. I tell you that every day. I'm just worried about your wellbeing, and possible death."

"WE'RE DEMI-GODS! FOR FUCKS SAKE, WE'RE IN DANGER EVERYDAY!"

"That doesn't mean you need to put yourself in more danger, Annabeth."

"It does, if it means defending the camp, and defending the world. If you believed in me, if you know I can do this. Let me go."

"Not without a fight."

"I'm going, whether you like it or not."

I pause, bitting my lip. Leaning against the wall. "Talk about this at dinner. I need to calm down."

"DON'T YOU LEAVE THIS FIGHT!" She snaps, but I'm already out of the door.

She came to the pool, standing over the edge. I watch her thinking, sitting there for a while. Her legs dangling in the water, on her phone. She looks down every few minutes, seeing if I have moved (I haven't).

I can't admit that I'm wrong, nor will she. I can't let her go, because if she dies it's on me. It's on me for letting her go, and not protecting her. If she dies, it's all on me.

There's a burst of bubbles next to me, and Annabeth is sliding down the pool wall, using her hands in a rough motion to pull her to the bottom, grabbing my leg to pull her up to me. She puts her feet on the bottom of the pool, holding my arm now, about to pull us up. But I move faster, holding her, and putting a bubble around the both of us.

"I can't let you leave without a fight, because I'll blame myself if you die, because I wasn't there to protect you, and I didn't stop you from doing something that killed you."

"Then you don't believe in me."

"Stop pulling that. I do believe in you. You're strong enough to do this quest on your own, you literally completed one of the hardest quests to exist. But my belief in you, does not change the fact that I'm worried about you, and I worry about you dying. It never will change, and I will always put up a fight if you're going on a quest, because I worry."

"Don't."

"I always will. I love you, and me loving you comes with me worrying about you. I know I'm being a shitty boyfriend, but please. Let me worry."

"Let me do this quest."

"I always will. But I still worry so much. I do trust you, I do believe in you. I just can't lose you."

"I know." She mumbles, leaning her head on my chest. "We're a mess."

"When aren't we?"

"Touché."

"When do you leave?"

She pauses; "tomorrow."

* * *

Everything was okay when she came back, holding each other tightly, breathing into each other. She was injured, but not badly. Nothing Will couldn't fix. We went back home after that, basically connected at the hip again.

Her laughing, mostly at me trying to cook food. Teaching me. Cooking together, leaving me to chop all the vegetables and meat up, her to do the actual cooking, stating I'd probably burnt the entire city down if I could.

But she taught me, and I learnt. Slowly.

On the morning. That morning. I woke up first, cooking her favourite breakfast. Eggs with bacon on toast. It took a little longer than thought, and she was awake by the time I was cracking the egg.

She sat at the bench, wearing one of my shirts, and boxers, her hair falling over her, blond curls framing her face.

"Don't over cook the eggs 'cause you're staring at me."

I smiled at her, going back to cooking, handing her the food when I've finished, watching her eat.

"I love you." I tell her. She smiles back.

"I love you. I have therapy today. John is suggesting I might have PTSD too. I mean no shit, Sherlock. But.."

"It's hard getting a diagnosis."

"Yeah." She finishes. "But it should be good. Amazing breakfast, by the way. You may have to cook for me everyday."

"Sure." I pause.

"Are you prepared for the quest tomorrow?"

"Always am."

* * *

She doesn't return for hours. I try distract myself, going to the gym, working out. Keep the panic attack at bay, then swimming. Laying.

Something is off when the clock hits 5, and she hasn't returned. I risk calling her, and nothing happens. She doesn't pick up.

Then the panic attack happens. Screaming, holding myself against the wall. Breathing in and out too fast, hyperventilating. Its panic I have never felt.

It doesn't stop until there's rapping on my door, I stumble for the door, opening it. Two men stand there. Men in blue.

"Percy Jackson?"

I can't respond, I can't speak. Shaking too much to move my mouth, to utter words. So I nod.

They don't say anything, for a moment. "Can we come in?"

I don't move out of the way, unable to move. "No."

"We're here to talk to you about Annabeth Chase. She's been reported dead, in a car accident."

"She. She doesn't – she doesn't drive."

"She was hit, along with three others. A rogue driver."

I can't respond. Swaying slightly, the panic building and screaming more and more. There's a tightness in my throat. I reach for the door, but it's not there. There's warmness coming out of my mouth, and the officers stepping forward, holding me up, taking me to a couch.

* * *

 **Lovely.**

 **Yes this is overdone, I just want to write this.**

 **Next update when 5 chapters are written...love y'all**

 **~ Georgia**


	2. Fine

**Thanks for the reviews and favs n follows. I appreciate y'all a lot.**

 **I'm a struggling adult (this is weird) but I'm getting there.**

 **I saw some reviews asking if Tony was the driver...I don't know if I could do that. I love Tony too much**

 **I don't own Percy Jackson or the MCU...**

 **Thanks for loving me**

 **Enjoy;**

* * *

I held myself until the officers left, deeming me stable enough. At least until the morning, when my mother would be contacted, and sent to the apartment. They muttered their sorry's, saying how awful they fault for my loss. And left.

I'm fine. I tell myself, standing up, shaking hands.

I'm fine. I repeat, grabbing a glass from the top shelf, hands shaking too much to hold it. It flies to the ground, smashing at my feet. I don't move.

I'm fine. I say again, grabbing another glass, walking across to the tap, crunching the only thing that I can hear, other than a deafening pounding.

I'm fine. I repeat again, hands slippery with sweat as I turned on the tap, filling a glass with water.

"You're fine," I tell myself, leaning against the table top, shaking hands bringing the glass to my lips. The cool liquid gliding down my throat.

"You're fine," I say, refusing to look down at the bloodied footsteps. "You're fine. You're fine."

I take a deep breath after deep breath, anything to control myself. I catch a look at the blood, staining the white tiles Annabeth have loved so much. I can't rip my eyes away, nor I can I feel the stinging pain I should be feeling in my feet.

I can't feel my body.

I can't feel my hands shaking so much, that the second glass slips and falls, shards flying into my leg, water spilling all over the floor. I look down at it, waving my hand to dry to water. The shards have no matter. They aren't important.

I move forward, pacing around the apartment.

I'm fine, but I can't be in here.

I don't grab the key, leaving too quickly to care. The landlord can get me in later, I tell myself as I leave the complex, unable to feel the cold pavement under my bleeding feet.

I'm fine. I say again, walking. Gazing at the sky. The panic has left me, nothing else remains. No aches, no pains. My body doesn't hurt, it doesn't scream for me to stop. Or, I can't tell if it is.

She's dead. She's dead. She can't be dead. She can't be. She's my Wise-Girl. She can't be dead. She's my lovely girl. I don't. She's fine. She's fine. She's fine. I clench my teeth harder and harder, trying to stop crying. I can't cry, she's not dead. She can't be dead.

"Sir? Sir, you're bleeding. Are you okay?" A concerned woman asks, standing in front of me. I shrug her off, continuing to walk the streets. "Don't you care that you killed my daughter?"

"What?" I hiss, turning around. Athena is standing there, her usual composure gone.

"Don't you care? You sent her to therapy. If she hadn't gone. If she hadn't gone, she'd be alive. She's dead, and you're to blame."

I can't reply.

I did. I told her it would be good. She left to go to therapy. She died on the way there, or way back. She wouldn't have died if she was with me. If she was at home. If we were together. I could have protected her. If I hadn't insisted she tried my therapist, she could have seen another. The other side, the other way.

"You killed her." She was gone.

And I was left.

Mumbling I'm fine to myself, but soon I couldn't stand. The pain in my feet starting. I attempt to walk more, reach a river. Something to cool my now burning skin. My burning body. The burning body I couldn't feel seconds ago. The body that I want to tear away because everything is screaming in pain.

"I'm fine," I tell myself again, stepping into the river, the flow pulling the glass away from my foot and the blood washing down the stream. But it didn't cool the burning.

"I'm fine," I mumble, dipping in. But the burning doesn't stop. It escalates. Screaming in agony.

I'm fine. My skin screams, I scream. Nails racking down my skin, trying to scratch off the layer that's burning me, try fix the burns, the hurt. Palms in my eyes, the water now stinging me, hurting me more than ever before. Everything was screaming in pain, and the rushes of water screamed that I had killed her.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

"I'm fine," I mumble to myself. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine."

Everything explodes.

* * *

 **Tony:**

Robert stood in front of them. Natasha, Rhodes and Tony. He was unhappy and glaring.

"There is a child, tearing up the city. Go and sort him out before he kills anyone."

"What do you mean, tearing up the city?" Rhodes asked.

"Several pipes have burst along the city, and we believe this kid here," the screens filled with a teen boy, floating up in a tornado of water. He was screaming. "is to blame. Fix it. Kill him, if you must."

"He's a kid."

"And he's causing destruction. Need I remind you of what you signed?" Robert hissed. No one responds.

Tony Stark turned on his heel, Natasha closely following him. He hated what he was doing. He hated that he knew SHEILD agents would already be trying to kill the poor kid.

Stark hated that he had signed these accords. He had done it for safety, he thought it would be the best for the team, for the world. But it wasn't. He wasn't prepared to kill a kid.

He couldn't kill a child.

He was taller than Natasha, the kid. He was on the ground. It had been five minutes, and more and more of the city was slowly being destroyed.

Tony walked closer, telling the agents to back off. The boy was in pain. He was screaming, just screaming. The agents were reluctant, but he didn't allow them to be, moving a few out of the way in order to reach the kid, Natasha walking the other side, grabbing his arm before anyone could react.

Within seconds of her touching him, the mud around him curled up, push her back. Holding her against a tree.

He moved slowly, now cautiously approaching him. Nat screaming not to go near him, saying he was dangerous. Tony ignored her. Something was too familiar.

The kid looked up, his eyes locking onto him. He had stopped screaming now, holding his arms up. His eyes were rimmed red, his hair matted from the wind from before. Tony narrowed his eyes, looking the boy in the eye.

It clicked; "Percy?"

Everything stopped, Percy's arms fell to his side. Natasha was free. "Don't move! I know him." Tony took a step forward, Percy was limp on the floor now, holding himself him by a shaking arm; "Percy?"

"She's dead. She's dead. She's dead."

"Where's Sally?"

"Australia. She's dead. She's dead." He was panicking now, rubbing his arms, hyperventilating. He kept mumbling 'she's dead', rocking himself into a deep, worsening panic attack.

"Sally?" Tony almost gasped, panic now surging through his body. But he couldn't, he rubbed his back in a fist, pushing his knuckles into the boys back. "Percy, breathe."

"No. No. Mum's. Mum's fine."

"I'm going to help you up. My house is safe." He didn't respond, continuing to mumble and groan the same sentence from before, his arms completely raw from being scratched. Tony stepped forward, arms under Percy's, pulling him up. Percy didn't fight and instead fell completely limp. Passing out in Tony's arms. "He's fainted, don't fucking move."

Rhodes was the only one to rush in and help, grabbing Percy's legs and flying him to the jet.

Tony sat next to Percy, unable to take his eyes off the boy that he used to know. The poor guy had scars everywhere, claw-like marks down his arms, the tip of his left pinkie finger completely off, in a small stub. He took a look up, staring in somewhat horror at his face. He had a scar running down the middle of his face, barely missing his eyes.

He had no idea what had happened in Percy's life, or how he was so scared, and mutilated.

* * *

"You know him?" Natasha stood next to Tony, both in front of the screen. Watching Percy, who had woken up, and curled back up. Falling asleep this time.

"Yeah. I knew him." Tony started. "I dated his mother, back in the day. Sally Jackson. One of the loveliest people I've met. I actually really liked her, to be honest. Her son, Percy, was only in grade, maybe pre or one? And he was just expelled. I remember I tried helping, offering to send him to a private school, but she was so head strong, saying she didn't need the help. I honestly still respect her."

"Where is she now?"

"No idea. We broke up, after about six months. It was a good relationship, but we became more friends than a couple. We were still friends for years, until she got into a relationship with some abusive pig, who I didn't find out until a year after, when we talked again. I never really forgot her. I know she's with someone. Percy, the kid, mentioned she was in Australia. She'd be on the way back now, if she'd have seen the news."

"Did you do stuff like this before?"

"He was a weird kid, yeah." Tony paused. "Friday? Check the police records for today, see if someone died. Specifically a girl."

After a moment of silence, the AI spoke; "The only one that would fit, with the same age range as Percy. Is a girl called Annabeth Chase. The police are asking for family to collect the body."

"Christ."

* * *

 **Sorry, oops.**

 **Well not so sorry.**

 **Love y'all**

 **More about how Percy is feeling mentally later / he is going to be confused, and his sections (most sections) will be a little confusing, because when you're feeling sad, and really really low. Nothing makes sense to _you_ let alone the world.**

 **Which is kind of my point.**

 **~ Georgia**


	3. Breathe

**I do not own Percy Jackson or the Avengers.**

 **This is a story of recovery, and chapters will be long. I'm a bit stressed out atm (thanks to school) but there should be weekly updates.**

 **I love you guys and thank you for giving me a chance.**

 **I hope you enjoy;**

* * *

 _Annabeth had one leg over him, typing up homework on her computer, pausing every few moments, thinking of a word to type. Her curly blond hair was the curliest he'd have ever seen it, and it was tied in a loose (shitty bun) behind her head, pieces falling down, framing her face. She was more tanned than usual, it being summer now, with a touch of sunburn on her shoulders. He never burnt, she hated that, slapping him playfully when he tried to help sooth the burns._

 _"Are you watching me, Seaweed Brain?"_

 _"Yeah, got an issue with that?"_

 _"Not really, my love." She smiled, turning her head to look at the boy in next of her. "You're sweet."_

 _"Love you."_

 _Her head is leaning on his shoulders, his vision blurry and foggy. But she's clearly there, smiling at him. Her soft touches, her tinkling laughs. Everything's perfect. Her golden hair is touching him, her body against his. Smiling._

 _Then it morphs._

 _The room around them turns dark, and the floor underneath turns hard. Annabeth turns, morphing into the sick girl from Tarturus. She was bloodied, pale, and shaking. She was clinging to him, hand wrapped around his hand._

" _Annabeth…" She was paling further, and further. She was shaking._

 _Then she was convulsing. Shaking in his arms, rigid. Annabeth was seizing, foaming at the mouth. She was dying in his arms._

 _Then the cuts appeared, her face becoming torn up._

 _She was thrown from him, flying across into the wall. He screamed as she flew around, crashing and banging until she stopped. Her face distorted. Her body rigid, hands bloodied from her nails. She was dying in front of him._

" _ITS YOUR FAULT!" the words were repeated and repeated. SCREAMING. It was getting louder, the screams. Words blended together, everything blended. The screams, thousands of_ her _screaming at him that it was his fault. It was his fault. She was dead. She was dead because of him. Annabeth was dead._

"Percy," _there was a soft voice, breaking through the rest. Within seconds it was drowned out again, he moaned, hands over his ears. Trying to block it all out. It wasn't going. He needed it gone._ "Percy."

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." _They weren't going away. He wanted it to go away. Annabeth was still in his arms, rigid and dead. Her voice echoing, screaming and screaming. He wanted it gone. He wanted the screams to be gone._

"Percy, it's just a dream," The darkness melted. A red-head woman was sitting over him, eyes thinning in concern. She was too close. She was so close. Her hand was on his arm, and it was burning. He pushed himself back.

His chest burning, stabbing. It was so tight, everything was so fucking tight. And he couldn't breathe. Each breath felt like he was breathing through a straw, sucking in air, begging to have fucking air in his lungs. But nothing was working, everything was so hard. The room was spinning, hard, heaving pumping, pounding in his ears. The woman was in front of him, hand touching his arm. Her words, he couldn't hear. She was worried.

Focusing on her lips, he tried. He tried to understand, she was calm. Instructing him on breathing, he thought.

"It's just a dream." She said again. He flicked his eyes around the room, Annabeth wasn't there. She was always there after a nightmare, she would be there, arms wrapped over his body, rubbing his arms and his chest. She should be there. She should be there. Maybe, maybe she was somewhere else.

"Where's Annabeth?" He spat out. Her face told him all he needed to know. He used to have dreams of her dying, but she would be right beside him. Annabeth would be holding his hand, whispering in his ear that she was okay. That she was alive. This woman didn't know her, didn't know Annabeth. "The blond. Where is she?"

He shoved a picture, one he never tore himself from. It was crumpled in his jeans or pants. It was in whatever he was wearing. He never let it leave his side.

"I'm so sorry."

"Pardon?" He spat out.

"She was killed in an accident. A drunk driver hit her, and four others."

The thumping got louder and louder. A high pitched ringing added to the mix, screaming. She was gone. How could she be gone?

"Get out." He mumbled, the pounding, the thumping getting louder and louder. The red-head woman's breathing was deafening loud.

"I can't leave you like this."

"GET OUT!" He was standing now, eye level with her. He had no idea how he got there.

"I…"

"I said, LEAVE. I don't need your fucking help. I'm fine. Get out."

She paused, "I can't leave you. You were told of her death two days ago, you've been asleep for those two days. You forgot she died."

Then it began to bubble. The grief that she was gone, and the memory of the officers coming to his door, knocking and breaking the news. Screaming in pain because Athena blamed him. His feet that were now bandaged, screaming in pain as he stood. He couldn't remember what he did after that, he had an idea. Then it came to the anger. The anger for that driver. The fucking cunt. Clenching fists, the exploding pipes added to the thumping in his ears, the window breaking added to his memories. The wind was whistling around the room at a speed that terrified that red-head woman.

"I don't want to ask again. Get out." Water was slowly flooding his room, and his eyes were dangerous. He wasn't quite glaring yet, but it was dangerous. Dangerous enough to make the red-head woman to leave the room. Leaving Percy to stand in the running, boiling water. The water was slipping out of the room. He stood, watching the water bubbling around him, not even hearing the noise anymore.

He was desperate to hit something. Desperate to let out his anger more the just exploding a few pipes.

* * *

No one was in the room, and he was still shaking with anger. He wanted to get the anger out, and now. Everything was too much for him to handle at the moment. The punching bag in the centre begged his attention, already sightly beat in. It was perfect.

It swung under the weight of his fists, moving around, bouncing on the balls of his feet. No gloves, or protection between his skin and the bag. Each punch stung slightly, gradually getting more and more painful the longer he continued to beat up the bag. It was comforting.

 _Punch_

Annabeth was in the room with him, keyboard clicking. He was punching, moving around everywhere. Keeping his mind quiet, everything was calm to him. Her in the room, doing her own thing. Him punching that bag. It was normal.

"Wanna spar?"

"Yep." He hit the bag one last time, stopping it moving with his foot. She grinned, fists up. She was easily better at hand to hand combat than him, having fought with a dagger most of her life. She bounced and moved faster, but he was easily stronger.

 _Punch_

Sparring with swords were different. He was better. He was easily better, stepping back and taking the sword out of her hand, flipping to push it against her throat.

"Screw you."

"Love you too."

 _Punch_

The bag was swinging back a forth, and Percy was locked, blinking. Staring at the ground. He had to be fine, he had to be fine. Balling fists, he punched again, and again. Letting the anger come through more and more and more.

He wanted to kill whoever hurt her. He wanted them to feel the pain that she felt. To feel the pain that he felt. He wished the evil person, that cunt, who killed her could feel the aching, firey pains in his chest. The screams that continued in his head.

"Try to kill that bag." A low voice said. Percy snapped up. A tall, extremely muscular man stood there. He was a mixture of Jason and Charles. He had a tight shirt on, with the American flag in the corner. There was a flash of a cross necklace. Percy almost snorted at it, at his ignorance. Fucking gods.

"Got an issue, mate?" He sneered back, hoping the man would leave him be. He didn't, leaning against the wall, watching Percy. Arms crossed. "Enjoying the view?"

"I'm Steve Rogers."

"And I'm, I don't care." He turned his back to Steve Rogers, ignoring him. "Do you have a fucking issue? Cause you sure seem like you do."

"No need to use vulgar language."

"Excuse me, kind sir, doth thy have a problem with myself?" He was glaring at Steve now, Steve staring back somewhat calmly. Which really pissed Percy off. "Just get out, man."

"You look upset." He wanted to scream, he wanted to be alone. And he wanted to work out his anger and work out his frustration. Work out his sadness.

"Cause you're still here. Get the fuck out before I make you leave."

"Just take a deep breath, son."

"Don't son me." Percy moved close to Steve, not quite matching his height. But he was tall enough and strong enough to intimidate the super soldier. Steve stared at him with sad eyes, leaning against the wall.

"You lost someone."

"I don't want to talk."

"Was it someone important?"

That pushed Percy too far. He punched Steve across the face, stepping back, ready to fight. Steve rubbed his nose but didn't take the stance.

"Was it?"

"Get. Out." His voice was low now. He wanted this Steve person out of the room, now. He wanted him to get out, and leave him alone. Steve wasn't moving, he wasn't taking a stance. Percy pushed him further, taking a step in. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"GET OUT!" He roared. Steve took a step back. He was pissed. Percy was shaking, the water in the cooler was leaking out the sides, threatening to spill. Exploding almost. The pool was lapping over the sides. And the air was moist. "Please. Just get out."

* * *

 **Tony**

Watching the kid was heartbreaking. Natasha had come to him, straight after she had gone into his room, saying he had exploded the piping around his room. They stood, watching him stand in the room for ten minutes, the water boiling around him, yet he isn't affected. He seems to be enjoying the heat of the water.

"Should we do anything?" She asked.

"I think it would hurt him more."

We stood still, Percy moving around the house, walking in circles until he found what he wanted. The gym. He seemed to relax more, moving to the bag, taking an easy stance.

"He's a good boxer. We could use him on the team, Tony."

"We can't. He's young."

"Not thinking 'bout yourself for the first time?" she tried. Tony refused to take his attention of the kid, watching him swing punches and kicks, almost in a trance.

"Somethings wrong."

Percy had stopped. Swaying slightly, sweating professedly. Something was off. He was locked in a trance, and with each passing second, Tony wanted to run in there, and try comfort the poor kid, try to calm him down from a panic attack that he could see was bubbling. Then Steve walked in, and the kids mostly calm demeanour changed. He becomes suddenly violent. Scary enough for Steve to walk up to Tony, and ask what was the kid's issue.

His only response was a shrug. The kid they pulled off the street was freaking out, and he didn't want friends. He didn't need friends.

"Wait till he's asleep, and we'll move him into a safer room. A room where there are no pipes to explode." Was his only plan. The Avengers didn't approve, but the didn't want to injure a kid.

Nor did they want to fight him.

* * *

The second the kid fell asleep, they rushed into his room (which was still flooded) and sedated him. Carrying the unconscious boy into a new room, avoiding the straitens on his bed. And leaving him to sleep.

The Avengers watch him wake. Watch Percy gaze around the room, biting his lip. His eyes finding every camera in the room. He wasn't reacting.

He was just sitting there.

He was sitting there, flicking a pen around and between his fingers. He wasn't even trying to leave, trying to escape. He just sat.

"He's not a threat." Was the automatic response. Most would try to break out, or at least try and find a weakness, try the door. Percy did none of that.

He was even balancing a pen on his finger, head tilted in concentration.

* * *

 **Percy** almost laughed when he woke up. He wasn't surprised that the Avengers had moved him. He had burst several pipes in the tower and had screamed at some of the others. He slid up, sitting with his legs over his bed, elbows on his knees.

The room looked somewhat like a psych patient would be in. It was padded. But there was a desk in front of him, his now broken phone sitting on it across from him. He hadn't really been thinking when he went swimming with it, and it was probably completely busted, along with all the videos of Annabeth. He prayed it wasn't broken. He prayed all the photos that sat on there will still there. The secret photos he took of her when she wasn't looking at him, the ones of them together, smiling. The ones of them, just being them.

He already knew what today would consist of. Camp friends had been through it before, losing members. They had to go to the police, they had to check it was the person. He hoped it wasn't her. He hoped she was just at home, waiting for him in a worried state. He hoped and prayed they had gotten it wrong, and she was just injured, just in the hospital.

Percy also prayed the Avengers wouldn't stop him from leaving, eyes flicking around the room, finding some weak spots. The window obviously wasn't reinforced, but leaving through there would kill him in seconds, and the possibility of her still being alive out-weighed the need to escape through there. The door looked weaker on the left, and if he applied the right pressure he could easily get out.

The second he's out, he walks down the halls, a hand gripped tightly on his phone, it works. But barely. No one is around him as he walks down the halls. No one talks to him.

He is completely alone. A horrific stabbing pain in his chest, rubbing it in circles. Praying it would go away, and leave him be. The pain grew more and more intense, as he took each step, the outside sunshine nearly blinding him. The police station is close, the main one. The one bodies are taken to. The one Annabeth isn't at. Because she can't be at, because she's not dead.

Annabeth isn't dead. She's fine.

"She's fine." He mumbles to himself, walking the streets. People around him blurring, their own lives bustling around him. Their own happiness's, their own sadness's.

Concerned looks flickered on their faces as he limped down the street, hands shaking in some sort of fear, some sort of mixed anger, and betrayal. And sheer denial.

Walking into the police station nearly killed him.

"Hello, what are you here for?"

"My girlfriend apparently died."

"Apparently?" The young officer pulled a face, motioning an older officer over. "Can you please explain?"

"I didn't…" He faded off, watching his fingers move in and out of each other. "I was told by officers that she had died, and I would be needed to uh…" he felt his voice crack, and he shut his mouth, bitting down to stop the flood of tears he just new was about to hit, but he didn't want it to hit.

"Ahh, yes. Can you describe her to us?" The older officer spoke, his face now low with worry, and sorry.

"About 5'7, blond. Has a tattoo on her neck of an owl, scars on her back and legs. A grey streak in her hair. Grey eyes…" he faded off, images of her flashing in his mind, he wanted to continue, hoping they would pull confused faces so he could rattle off more and more features of her until they told him she wasn't there.

But.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Just this way." The older officer had taken control, stepping out from behind the desk, leading the way to the back. He rattled off facts and things Percy didn't need to know, sorry's he didn't care about. He wanted to tell the officer to shut up, tell him he didn't need noise. But he couldn't. He'd done nothing wrong. He couldn't be angry at this poor man. "Just through here." He flicked a light, and everything flooded his vision.

Annabeth.

She was laying on the bed, eyes closed. Laying on her back cuts laying over her body. One arm hanging strangely. Her right leg with a massive gash, which had been stitched up somewhat poorly. His wise girl was broken and torn up. She wasn't the girl he had seen leave the apartment days before. It wasn't the girl he knew. She was cut up and broken in front of him, and it was terrifying. Yet she was so peaceful, her face calm. He lifted an eyelid up, he had seen her worse off than his, but her eyes dazzled with hope, and fear. Her eyes were dead.

Her eyes were gone.

"That's her." He gasped out.

"Do you need a moment?"

"No." He gasped again. Moments were flashing, her laughter was flashing. She couldn't be dead, but she was dead. She was laying too still on the table, too still for alive Annabeth.

"You can touch her." The officer said. Percy moved forward, fitting his hand into her cold one. Her fingers laying to limp to be here, too cold to be her hands. He preferred her burning hands from Tartarus than the freezing hands in his grip right now. "Would you like me to leave you?"

"No. I'm fine. Her father is Frederick Chase. I can call him tonight, to organise the burial. Thank you."

* * *

He couldn't move his legs, he couldn't take a step. The camp was below him, the campers walking around under him. Nothing was normal about it, they were sad. They all knew. They all knew she was gone.

Many assumed he would be gone too. Jackson never back to train them again, lead them again. She was dead, but he was gone. Nico and Thalia were running, gripping each other as they run towards him.

Thalia's face was thick with tears, her hair messier than ever before. Nico looked almost worse, his skin too pale, his eyes bright red.

"Percy, Percy oh gods." Thalia's arms were wrapped around his neck, her head on his neck. Nico was on them, hand on Percy's head, fingers wrapping through his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"No."

"We'll be okay. We'll be okay, okay?" Thalia was pulling away, hands-on Percy's arms, Nico still holding close. "We'll be okay. Promise me?"

"Do you want me to promise that we'll be okay? As a promise that we'll be okay, or as a reassurance?"

Thalia doesn't reply, face flicking through seconds of horror, anger, then sadness again; "Both."

"Promise you won't pull away?"

"I can't promise that. I need to sleep." He pushes past, Thalia running in front of him, her hand almost burning as she grabs his arm, tightly.

"Percy?"

"Please let go." He muttered, clenching his fists. "I want to be alone."

"We can't let that happen." Nico's voice was soft and raw. On a death of anyone, anyone other than Annabeth, Percy would wrap them both in hugs, and mutter all the okay's they needed.

But now, he was only filled with anger and wanting to be alone. Almost needed to be alone. He needed to sit alone with his guilt.

The stupid guilt that was only hitting him now, the washing, pulling, screaming guilt.

"Please leave me alone."

"We can't."

"LEAVE ME." Everything snapped, he felt the pull of the water, ice shards near him, flicking up and around, near cutting his friends. He backed up. They were bleeding. He had never done that, he'd never, ever done that. "Please. Please, Gods, please. I need to be alone. I don't want to be around anyone but _her_ , but _she's_ dead. So, leave me fucking be."

"The funeral is in two days."

"Cool." He mumbled, turning on his heel.

"You're expected to write something."

"Again, cool."

"How can you say that?"

"I want this conversation over." He was halfway towards his cabin by now, the footsteps of his friend too close for comfort. "Meaning, bye."

Two days to write everything about Annabeth.

Everything.

Sitting in his bed, hands shaking over the paper, notes jotted down of how much he loved her and why. But he just couldn't do it.

* * *

 **Don't forget to read n review**

 **First reviewer gets a few reasons that Percy loves Annabeth**

 **Thank you**

 **~ Georgia**


	4. Lost Love

**Here we have an excuse for slow updates:**

 **So I'm doing AP Legal, and my final exam is coming up, and a lot of my energy is going towards that, and keeping up to date with it, and basically not drowning in the amount of work and study I have to do for it, writing is very much a hobby and a relaxation for me once I have completed several chapters / can't mentally handle doing more legal studies. I have a massive plan for this story, and I know what I'm doing for the next 15(ish) chapters.**

 **ANYWAY, enough of me complaining about school.**

 **Enjoy the chapter:**

* * *

The casket was closed.

Her face wasn't visible to see.

It was closed, so they wouldn't see. The half-bloods around him wouldn't see. See the face that he saw, the limbs torn off that he saw. So they wouldn't see what she had become after death. To see what had hit her, and how changed she had become.

The fucking casket was closed.

That's all he could see, after person after person walked up, and spoke of her, glancing at her casket every so often, smiling sadly at the ground of grey demi-gods, barely holding themselves together. Person after person, struggling to hold it together, speaking of her, speaking of Annabeth, saying that she was amazing, she was beautiful, that she changed their lives, that she was so stunning and beautiful and worth so much more than the death she received.

Person after person, offering him slight touches walking up or walking back down to their seats, thumbs rubbing softly over his shoulder.

But the casket was closed. And there was a fucking black and white picture of her smiling face next to it, surrounded in her least favourite fucking flowers, Dahlias. The white, plump flowers surrounding her face, frozen in a slight grin, his face cut of the photo, but his arm is not.

The casket is closed, and the picture someone chose to use is one with him in it, arm over her shoulders, probably them both laughing at a stupid joke, but happy.

Thalia stands up from behind him, hand grazing his back softly, walking up with shaking hands. He drifted his eyes from the casket to Thalia, her skin paler than normal, her eyes sunken in. A taller, tanner girl stood with Thalia, hand wrapped in his cousins. He tore his eyes away, staring at the fucking closed casket again, the wood so polished, and too perfect.

The world is so foggy, only the closest casket is in clear view, the world seeming to be dissolving and reappearing around it, fading with each blink, each breath. Ceasing to exist with each passing second, her death seemed less and less real the longer the world fizzled around her closest casket, the longer the world seemed to twinkle around her. Black dots flickering around his view, flying around his eyes, flying around her. Laughter from so low, laughing because he's going insane.

The world is too bright, the light shining around her closest casket, almost blinding him, the seat under him fading in and out, the thumping in his chest growing harder and louder, mind clicking and freaking out because he's going to fall, and he's going to fall. And the chair below him isn't there because it isn't real.

"Percy," Thalia's hand was hard on his shoulder, her face flickering in and out of his vision, her red eyes in front of his, in front of the casket.

"I can't see her."

"It's your turn to speak." Her voice was too soft, her touches on his arm, rubbing up and down was barely there. "I can help you up."

Standing there, Thalia a step behind him. He couldn't see the casket. The stand is swaying violently, the crowd in front of him warping as they sit and watch him, knuckles growing whiter and whiter with each second.

"Percy."

"I can't see her." He mumbles out again, Thalia's hand on his back again. "I, uh. I don't know. Annabeth was uh. Fuck." he leans forward, resting his head on the stand, blocking all view of everyone watching him, their sad eyes staring bullet holes through his chest, through his face.

"Just breathe." Piper's voice was in his ear, a hand slipping onto the other side of his back. Her voice was rooms away, her hand through thousands of layers of shirts. "You're okay."

The words on the paper blended together as he tried to focus on them, his eyes barely being able to focus on anything, barely able to focus enough to see clearly; "Annabeth was, pretty amazing. Everyone's saying she's ain't. Perfect. Fuck. Everyone's saying she's perfect, but she ain't. She's messy and laughs loud. Too loud. Shut up, never shuts up about archit – architecture. She better. Fucking hell." he pauses again, looking up at the crowd, her father and mortal family staring at him in some sort of horror, Athena sitting with Poseidon, eyeing him with concern.

His father with his hand on his chair, readying himself to come up.

"She. She had uh…" he fades off, picking up the paper with the hands that are shaking too much to be his.

"Had my back." Thalia supplied.

"Always has my back. She made me. She…"

"A better person."

"She made me a better person. She, uh. She…She made me stu-study." Thalia was over his shoulder now, reading the letter in his hands, shaking. Her hand touching his. He narrows his eyes, forcing the focus, trying to see where she's touching.

"I can't feel my hands. Oh, gods. I can't feel my hands. I can't." He pushes Thalia away, stumbling away, crashing into her casket, it blaring into full focus, the world still fizzling and filled with fog. But the casket screaming in colour and intensity. "I can't feel my hands. I can't feel my hands."

The crowd is up some standing and watching him, muttering words between them.

"They're not real. Not real," he mumbles, reaching a hand to touch her casket, finally feeling something under his hands, finally having feeling back in his fingers. "Come back, come back. Come back."

"Get up." Piper was in front. Blocking the casket. "Are you drunk?" She hisses, her face flashing in anger. He pushes away from her, stumbling away from her funeral, leaving it in some sort of disappointment, and horror.

* * *

People began moving around camp again, a few gathering over the lake, glancing down. Their faces distorted with the lapping over the lake. Mumbles carry, especially mumbles from the animals around.

News travels fast.

"Perseus."

"Percy."

"What's going on?" Poseidon joined him on the floor of the lake. "What was that?"

"I'm going insane." He mumbles. He shakes his head. "I can't feel my hands, my feet. I'm insane."

"You're grieving."

"I'm insane." He pushes, not allowing him to fight the fact anymore. "I want to be alone."

"I don't think that's reasonable."

"Fine. Don't follow me, you stay here." He grumbles, wrapping the mud around Poseidon, and pushing off, and out of the lake, walking through the hoards of worried demigods, a few calling out as he passes.

* * *

The wood, he couldn't feel the wood. No matter how much he dragged and scrapped his finger across, digging his nails into the cracks. Tilting and turning them, almost trying to break his nails.

No one was in the room, it was deadly silent. He didn't want it to be silent, because silent meant thinking about her. Humming quietened the silence, distracting him to the song coming out of his lips, his eyes glued on his fingers, trying to feel that fucking wood, trying to feel what was going on around him, but he couldn't. Nothing felt _real_. Still. He had this once with Annabeth, but never this bad. Never like this. He just buried his head into her, Annabeth drawing circles on his hand, carefully scratching it until he was grounded again.

But even her techniques weren't working.

"FUCK!" The table flew backwards, crashing down, falling on its side. Percy was standing up, anger surging through his body now. Nothing was fucking working. He just wanted to feel, he needed to fucking feel. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck." Nails in his hair, scratching at his scalp, trying to feel the scars that ran down it, but he couldn't. Nothing was connecting. His brain wasn't fucking working anymore. "FUCK!" He was in control. But needed to feel, swinging himself around, punching a hole in the wall. His hand stinging in pain for a second before punching again.

"Percy," Chiron was at the door, Thalia behind him. Travis and Connor Stool, Jason, Piper and Leo stood behind her. Percy was frozen. In the space between his head screaming at he had to feel, had to touch, and knowing he can't be out bursting around his friends, around his mentors.

Around people that looked up to him.

The seven entered the room, Piper standing the closest, offering him a smile, working down the line to Thalia, who was sending daggers.

"Got a fucking issue, Grace?" Percy sneered, not knowing what or who had come over him. He wanted to catch himself.

But he didn't.

"Yeah, you're drunk." Her voice was soft, yet deadly. He could see, in her eyes somewhere, that she was concerned for him. But a majority of her look was stand-offish. She was ready to fight him, and smash his head in with a rock.

He wanted to push her to do that.

"I'm not drunk." He mumbled.

"You kicked over a table. And punched a wall." Piper spoke. "You don't normally do that."

"Did you notice that my girlfriend is dead? Or am I the only one?"

"You're the only one that doesn't care." Travis.

"Pardon?"

"You're drunk, or high." Travis was continuing, taking a step towards Percy, eyes flicking to Percy's hands. Which hadn't moved from his side. "You're not yourself. You were up there, stumbling over your words, acting like you couldn't string a single sentence together about the girl you supposedly loved with your entire heart."

Percy didn't know how to react. Travis's words slapping him like a whip. He stumbled back, trying to understand what was just told. Hand on the wall, screaming still because he couldn't feel it, and it didn't feel real. His hand didn't feel real. It didn't feel like his. None of him felt like it was _his_.

"We'd expect you to behave properly." Chiron was speaking softly. Percy couldn't bring himself to look at him, not wanting to make eye contact with any of the demi-gods in front of him. They all hated him right now. "How you behaved, is a reflection of your relationship. And the respect you held for her."

He couldn't reply again. He didn't know how to. His brain screamed in some sort of weird pain, screaming for movement. Screaming for anything.

Piper was in front of him, eyes connecting with his; "Did you respect her?"

He allowed her to charmspeak him, he had lost all the strength to repell it, to hold himself against it. He didn't want to fight anymore. Percy just wanted to punch a wall, and then sleep for the next month. "I do respect her."

"Did you love her?"

"I do love her." He was desperate for them to leave, tapping his foot. Trying to distract his mind from wanting to cry, and moving the energy to something else. To another part of his body. Putting it into the world.

"Why did you drunk?" Travis again. Percy had lost all of his energy. He had no energy to fight, no energy to argue. He just wanted to stop. So he turned, back against the wall, eyes glued across the room, ignoring his friends. "You're just going to fucking ignore us?" Travis was closer to him, but Percy refused to look at him.

Hands gripped his shirt, Travis's hands in Percy's shirt, holding himself up to Percy's height.

"Please let go of me." He was trying to keep calm. But he wasn't calm. The anger from before was back, and he was itching to push Travis back, itching to yell at them all. But he didn't. He took a deep breathe, in his nose, out his mouth.

"Not until you fucking tell us, why you're drunk?"

He completely snapped, grabbing Travis turning around. Pressing his arm against his neck, pushing Travis hard into the wall. Travis's hands were still gripping Percy's shirt, hand dangerously close to touching his skin. "I said, let go of me."

"Why are you drunk?"

"I'm not drunk, Stool. I'm not drunk. And you…" He pushed Travis harder into the wall, forcing him to let go of his shirt. "I love her. I'm not drunk."

They didn't reply. None of them replied.

"I'll see you around, Jackson," Leo left the room, Piper soon following, another soft, sad smile. The Stolls left as well.

Jason remained, bitting his lip; "I hope you're telling the truth. For your sake."

"Don't talk to me again, Jackson," Thalia was close to his face, tears running down her face, thick and fast. "Have you even cried?"

"Please don't touch me." Percy mumbled out. Percy knew she was looking at him, he knew she was considering saying something before leaving the room.

Only Chiron remaining; "I expected more from you, Percy. I really did."

* * *

"You could lift the table up, you know." Mr D stood in the doorway. "Instead of letting your poor, old cousin do the work."

"Fuck off."

Mr D entered the room, and Percy only wanted to scream. But he didn't say much, lifting the table up, pulling a chair up to be facing Percy.

"I'm sorry about Annabeth."

"You remembered her fucking name, only after she's dead. Real classy."

"I mean it as a joke. Using the wrong names. I really respected Annabeth. She was an amazing person, a strong fighter. And Olympus is so beautiful now, thanks to her. I am sorry, Percy." His face was soft, bitting a lip. He was watching Percy carefully, the room focusing in and out around him. Percy's vision blurring so he could only see Mr D in front of him, the walls moving in and out with each breathe he took. With each slow, deep breathe in, the walls closed in tighter and tighter around him. And with each slow, deep breathe out, the walls pushed out. But never pushed out as far as before, before closing in again, moving faster and faster with each second.

"This room is suffocating." Percy mumbled, the walls threatening to close in on him, screaming again. Mr Dr nodded, standing up, basically leading Percy out the door, and out the back of the big house, sitting down on stairs. Mr D didn't say a word, Percy hanging his head, trying to calm the pangs of fire in his chest. Not really understanding what was happening. Panic attacks had felt similar to this, but it was nothing. They were nothing to the pangs. "I'm not drunk."

"I know."

"I love her."

"I know."

"I respect her."

"I know that. I know you didn't drink, it's easy to tell. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Annabeth is dead, and I'm sorry that Chiron is treating you badly. He sees Annabeth as a daughter, and her dying, he's trying to find someone to blame, to stick his grief on. I don't think you're the bad guy, Percy. I'm really sorry."

Mr D was being nice. And he hated it. He never wanted to be treated differently because Annabeth was dead. He expected, and almost didn't mind his friends anger, they were grieving, and they placed the blame on him. The grief was on him. He didn't mind. He could deal with it.

But Mr D showing so much compassion, sitting next to him and calming talking. Giving him advice, trusting Percy's word over everyone? Admitting himself that he is going to miss Annabeth? It was nearly destroying him more, if that was even possible. Hearing that the supposed heartless, uncaring Mr D was upset by his girlfriends, by Annabeths death, was shocking. It was unheard of. He almost wanted Mr D to be one of the ones yelling at him, telling him off for being 'drunk'. But he wasn't. And it was messing with him the longer he sat by his side, head in his hands. Percy tightened his fist, tightened his jaw. He wanted to scream. Scream out everything that was happening, that people, his friends. His mentors hated him. Athena hated him (not new but still). But he mostly wanted to scream because Mr D. "My chest hurts. It feels like. It feels like fire. It hurts so badly." He mumbles out. "It hurts so fucking bad. I can't even feel my hands. Nothing feels normal."

Everything was slipping out so quickly. He didn't want it to, but everything was coming out. Mr D's hand was on his back, rubbing hard circles. He didn't want him being nice. He wanted to shrug away, move away. He wanted to push Mr D away and scream at him for touching him. But he couldn't.

Something in his mind told him to not move, that he had to stay. He just. He couldn't move away.

"Tell me when you can feel my hand."

"My backs not as bad."

"What's the worst?" Mr D was speaking so softly, and Percy couldn't reply for a moment. The tightness in his chest making it hard for him to speak, form words and breathe.

"My hand and arm."

Percy could hardly focus now, and Mr D was being gentle, and like he never, ever was. His eyes floated in and out of focus. The ground in front of him was barely visible, yet he didn't feel tears. He didn't feel the burning urge to blink them away. He didn't feel the wet, salty tears. He wasn't crying.

"You know you're dissociating? It's nothing serious. Your brain can't figure out how to handle it, or handle the situation. So it pulls itself out. That what's happening now. You're going to be okay, Percy. I can promise you that. It might take a while, but it's going to be okay. One day…No one will go to the beach today, do you want to sit there?"

Percy didn't want to move. His legs where locked in place, he was only just getting feeling back to his arm. And he wanted to still scream. He wanted to cry a bit, but he didn't.

He was in control now.

He was in control.

"Dinner is soon. Wait until everyone goes, and then go to your cabin. I can keep everyone away."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Peter."

* * *

Mr D left him in the room, a low rumble from the bottom of camp. It was dinner. Mr D seemed to understand that he didn't want to eat, and didn't feel like eating today. That he couldn't eat today.

"Are you going to eat dinner?" He wiped around. Thalia was standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

"Get out of my cabin." He hissed. Thalia didn't move.

"I may be pissed off, but you need to eat."

"Get out."

"You need to eat." She stepped into his room, and any calmness that Percy had gained, sitting with Mr D was gone. Everything was red. His hands, his hearing, his seeing. "Perce."

Everything went into slow motion. He grabbed her hand, tight enough to make her squirm, turning her wrist to be behind her back, leading her out of the cabin, ignoring her attempts to talk. She was headstrong, he'd give her that. He could hear her, her saying she was pissed at him, but needed support too.

And he needed the support.

"I don't need your fucking help, Grace. Get out of my face. I'm fine on my own."

"Perce." She turned, looking at him. He didn't release his grip.

"Don't turn to me, and fucking say 'Perce' to like you care? You accused me of drinking at her funeral. Just get out of my face."

"Perce."

"OUT!" He pushed her away. Thalia stood, facing him. Face half horror, half anger. He stood his ground, fists clenched, the moisture in the air slowly growing more and more dense.

"If you die…"

"Then I'll be happy." He turned on his heel, ignoring the rain that was falling down around him, soaking the campers and the Hunters.

* * *

 **Again, I am a suffering student.**

 **But I'm using this for literature oops.**

 **Love y'all**

 **~ Georgia**


	5. Sally Jackson

_**H**_ **e** **y! I think this will probably be a shorter chapter. Really depends. I thought I'd write more with Tony and Sally, but it's hard at this point in time of it. I'm aiming for about 2k words, instead of 3 or 4k.**

 **MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR A MAJORITY OF THIS STORY. Percy is in a BAD place. He is NOT well.**

* * *

 **Tony Stark**

"Hey Sally!" Tony greeted, as the blond woman walked in the door, hand wrapped around a mans next to her, "and Paul, I'm assuming."

"Tony? How did you get in my home? Are you drunk?"

"No," he laughed, "Pepper would kill me. I'm here about Percy, actually."

"Is he okay?"

"He's alive." Tony let out, standing awkwardly in the room, as Sally gripped tighter to her husband.

"What happened?"

Tony paused before answering, watching the poor womans' eyes flick around his face, trying to figure out what was happening before he could say; "did he tell you much?"

"He lived with Annabeth, he use to get nightmares with us, but said he stopped since moving out. Oh God. Oh god, he was lying. My poor boy."

"He wasn't doing well, from what I've heard. He was very upset, and very unwell. Annabeth seemed to be helping him keep calm, and calm himself down. From what I understand, he was already in quite a bad place while she was uh, here. And he was suffering quite badly, but from. Well. Annabeth has died, in a car accident, and Percy seems to have just fallen into pieces. I'm assuming you heard about the storm about a week ago? Unfortunately, that was him. He ruined his phone in the process, and we haven't seen him in 4 days, since he stormed out of the tower. We can not contact him."

"Annabeth died?" Sally gasped out, Paul grabbing her shoulders tightly, their faces falling in a mixture of shock, horror, and sadness. "Oh god." She mumbled.

Tony felt out of place, incredibly out of place. Pepper had begged that she should be here too, but he wouldn't let her. Sally would feel, weirder if Pepper were here. Worse even. But nether the less, Tony watched in an uncomfortable stance as the two adults pieced together what was truly going on, and what had happened.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice barely above being audible. Paul gave him a small nod, and Sally pulled herself to a seat, gripping Paul's hand, holding it tightly to her face, breathing slowly becoming more and more ragged. "I'm so sorry."

"Where's Percy?" Sally asked, her slowly piecing together what Tony had said before, her mind working at a slower speed to normal, the creepy grief of losing what she regarded as a daughter taking over, the grief of having to see Percy suffer such an extreme loss.

"We don't know."

"What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" She hissed, venom filling her voice. Paul's hand clenched tighter on hers, his spare hand grabbing her shoulder, half holding her in place, half in comfort.

"I tried keeping him at my house, in the tower. I offered him a lot of, things, rooms. Anything. But he left, he got angry. Very angry, and left."

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing, I swear. I only, I only tried to help." Tony faded off, bitting his lip.

The only sound in the room was Sally's soft cries.

* * *

 **Percy**

Mr D stood in the door, small phone in his head. He was nodding, slightly, and had his phone slightly away from his ear, pulling it back every so often, cringing.

"He's right here, Ms Jackson…Yes, I'm watching him."

Percy turned his head up, watching him now, barely moving from his spot in front of the fountain. Mr D kept nodding, before entering the room, handing the phone over to Percy.

"Oh my sweet boy, are you okay?"

"Yes." Percy said, keeping his voice as low, and unmoving as possible. His mother let out a soft cry, sniffing before speaking again. Her cries almost mocking his.

"I'm so sorry."

"Okay."

"Perce, I'm coming to get you."

"No."

"Why?"

"No." he mumbled again, dropping the phone in the fountain, glaring at it with everything he had. The phone flickered a few times, before going out completely.

Mr D. stood in the room, watching Percy with careful eyes, unsure of if to move to attempt to comfort the poor kid again, or leave the room, and leave him alone.

Neither felt right.

* * *

The water wasn't calming him. The fountain wasn't doing anything. It sat there, the phone sunk to the bottom, barely moving despite the current at the bottom.

Nothing was happening.

And he wanted to scream. He just wanted something to move, something to make a sound. Something to happen, because nothing was. His mind was silent, no thoughts circulating around, no noise in his ears. Nothing to stimulate his thoughts.

Everything was nothing.

He willed himself to move, but nothing happened. He tried pushing himself off the floor, but nothing happened. He was stuck in nothing.

Completely stuck in nothing.

Hours past, hours of Percy sitting in nothingness. Sitting with nothing around him, his head stuck in the moment that he was before his mother called. Stuck in the same spot. Unmoving. The ache that should be in his legs, not there. The stabbing pains that should be filling up his brain, not there. Hours past of this, before he got himself up. Hand against the wall of his cabin, eyes flicking around. Struggling to focus.

Mr D. still stood in the door, eyes opening slightly as he got up. Offering a hand to the boy, attempting to just help the poor kid to where he wanted to go.

But he didn't. Walking stiffly past the god, walking out of the room. His legs taking over from his mind, walking him to the beach, collapsing once again in front of the ocean. Finally seeing movement in front of him. The waves lapping over the sand, foaming slightly.

And he sat. Unable to move once again, but the noise of the ocean, the movement of the waves. He finally had something. Stimulation.

The calmness of something lasted mere minutes, before his mind tuned everything out, pulling him back. Back from reality. A floating feeling he had never felt before.

Like he was ten feet under, but also miles high. He was lost again. Lost without her there to pull him up, and pull him down. The sand around him blurred together, as though it was one. His hand pushing through it all. Circles after circles being drawn. Erasing them, and drawing again. He was robotic.

* * *

Nico was beside him. Sitting in silent before he nudged him. Voice too soft to be normal, the anger that held everyone else down, not holding down Nico.

"Perce," He faded himself off. Percy continuing to stare forward. The waves finally beginning to distract him again, calm him down. "You need to come for dinner. I haven't seen you eat in days."

Nico stared, and Percy refused to respond.

"You need to eat."

A shrug was all he could muster.

"You're killing yourself, slowly." Nico blurted out before thinking, cringing in on himself before he could stop.

Percy hardly reacted. It wasn't like he was going to deny that. He was slowly killing himself, whether it was intentional or not. He was.

"Deny that, please deny that."

He couldn't.

"Say something. Tell me to fuck off, tell me to leave. Tell me to eat shit. Just say something, Perce. We're all really worried. You didn't move for an entire day. Mr D. refused to leave your room."

A day? That long. God, he was more out of it than he realised.

"You've been here for 12 hours, on the beach. Percy. Please. Or Thalia and I will force you to come and eat. We left you alone for a day, because Mr D. wouldn't let us in the cabin. We left you for breakfast because Athena refused to let us come to you. We need you too, we're suffering too." Nico was growing angrier now. From the amount Percy was in his own head, he could tell. "You're going to die if you don't eat."

He almost laughed. Nico was in front of him now, blocking the view of the waves, blocking everything that was keeping him calm. Keeping the anger at bay.

"You have to eat." The touch of Nico's hand on his wrist set it off. Water exploding from the sea, long tentacles wrapping around Percy's cousin, pulling him off him. Pushing him away. The wind picking up faster and faster, circling around Nico. Percy unable to move, or realise what he was controlling. Realise what he was doing.

He simply stared forward, eyes locked on the single strip of the sea that was still calm, while everything around him raged. Demigods running for cover. Cover from what they use to think of as a friend.

Running from Percy Jackson.

* * *

A tentative hand calmed the ocean, the sheltering demi gods already hidden away in their cabins. Except one. Sitting on the beach, eyes unable to tear away.

The goddess sat next to him, much to Percy's sudden awareness, and discomfort. The shredding of the sea seemed to destroy all the nothing that was covering his brain, only leaving anger behind once again. Unable to shed the pain away with more destruction.

"I don't blame you." Athena broke the silence. "I know you were trying to help her."

Percy refused to break the contact with the ocean. But her presences helped. The mutual feeling of anger lingering between the two, tying them together in a way Percy had hoped to never feel.

"I don't think you were drunk. I've seen you and Annabeth drunk before. Iris. I was concerned, once. She showed me the two of you. Drinking, illegally. But you were watching a home design show, playing a drinking game. Annabeth was really happy."

Percy was looking away now, eyes glued to the sand under his hand, refusing to even glance to the side of Athena.

"I thought she was drinking too much per thing." She mumbled, her almost deep in thought.

Percy was trying all he could now, begging himself not to cry. Cry because the memory was too vivid, and she was too gone.

" _Gestures!" She cheered, "take a sip!" Annabeth's hair was half up, but mostly down. Her grey streak visible. A shirt on that wasn't hers, but his._

" _Annie, you're going to throw up if you take gulps that big." He laughed, carefully sipping from his bottle, while she near downed half of it._

" _I'm fine."_

" _I'm not holding your hair back while you vomit. Aw fuck, magic toilet."_

" _Downing time." She giggled, sloppily chugging down the drink, while Percy carefully swirled his, angling his hand more and more to down it easier than her, and in a single go. "Show off."_

" _I've tried to teach you how to drink it, and you refuse to listen."_

" _It's hard to do!"_

" _It's hard to do if you're drunk."_

" _I'm not drunk."_

" _Walk in a straight line, go on." He egged. Annabeth whined, putting her bottle down, pulling herself into him, legs either side of his. "Not working, you're still drunk."_

" _Hm, you're rude." She whispered, mouth close to his neck. Warm breath on his neck, lips tickling close to his skin. "So, you don't want me to kiss you?"_

" _Oh no, I want you to kiss me." He almost laughed, throwing the empty bottle onto the other couch, her giggling as she kissed his neck, and he struggled to move other bottles off the couch, trying to make room. "I love you."_

 _Annabeth hummed in agreement, hands under his shirt, lifting it off, kissing on his neck a little harder as he moved up, taking off her bra in one movement, her shirt with another._

 _Moments later they were sharing messy kisses. Percy laying, his back flat on the couch, her on top, holding one of his hands above his head._

" _You're still drunk." He moaned. The sober part of his brain ticking in. Drunk Annabeth didn't care, mouth connecting to his. The kiss distracting him for a while, before he was sitting up again, his pants off, her kissing just above his member. "Annie," he moaned this time out of pleasure. She was on top of his lap again, her back and forth movements turning his head back, letting out a soft moan._

" _I love you."_

" _You're drunk." He ticked again, pushing her off this time, grabbing pants off the floor and pulling them over himself. "When you're sober. When I'm sober."_

" _I want to." She huffed. "Sober-Annabeth doesn't have the guts."_

" _Neither does Sober-Percy. Which is why we have to wait." He pulled her in, both still topless._

" _Sober us have done stuff before."_

" _Yeah,"_

" _But not sex."_

" _Yeah," Drunk-Percy was slightly angry at his sober self. But also not. "Not sex. Not now. Not full sex. But I never said I can't get you off."_

"They have a gravestone, in New York. Her mortal family." Athena continued, seemingly noticing that Percy was stuck in a memory. "Percy, have you cried?"

He didn't respond. He wasn't even sure if he had cried. He could barely remember the days before her funeral, that day a blur other than screaming, and crashing into her casket. The past few days had felt like hours.

It hadn't hit him. The days of dissociation taking over from any other emotion than nothingness. The slipping of reality, barely allowing him to accept what had happened. Barely allowing him to process if it was real, or some sick dream.

"You're allowed to cry, Percy. You're allowed to mourn her."

"If I cry," he mumbles, "then it's real."

Athena sighed. Percy still refused to look at her, eyes glued down. But he could feel the sad stare, the sympathetic, soft, sorry look. The look that left no one's eyes when they so much as glanced past him.

"As much as I don't want it to be real. It's real, Perseus. You can't keep pretending it's not."

He lost control. The two gods on the camp, holding each side of him, strong hands on his shoulders as sobs, and screams took over the boys body.

The male god, barely able to sit beside him, the thoughts coursing through Percy's head uncontrollable and dangerous. To himself, to others. To the world. The thoughts, one that a kid of 18 years shouldn't be having. Thoughts that shouldn't slip through anyone's head. Thoughts that no living being should feel, or ponder about.

Even taking away the smallest amount of it, taking some of the pain he was experiencing. Even though Mr D. took just a bit of the pain, in any attempt to help lessen how much the boy was breaking, it was strong enough to knock the god down, head swirling.

Percy Jackson on the verge of death.

* * *

 **Please stay safe. If you, or a friend, ever experiences suicidal thoughts, contact the police or a help line for your country. If a friend is EVER in danger, call the police straight away. Them alive and angry with you, is better then them not being here.**

 **Stay safe.**

 **I love you. You are important**

 **~ Gee**


	6. The Avengers

_**This story contains triggering content. It is going to deal with depression, grief, death, suicidal thoughts, descriptive anxiety, and sex. Please read at your own discretion.**_

 _ **Stay safe, and please do not read if you know this is going to trigger you.**_

 _ **I do not own Percy Jackson or any of the characters in Rick Riordan's Universe. Likewise, I do not own any of the Avengers or any of the characters in the MCU.**_

 **Thank you for waiting for updates. I'm exhausted and finishing my final level of school. I'm run down and existing on caffeine.**

 **I have a huge one-shot going up soon, so it some love once it's there**

 **Enjoy:**

* * *

Tony Stark walked beside him, hand on his elbow as he carefully guided him to his car, away from the camp, doing his best to guide him away from the other campers and Percy's friends and family. Percy was barely away of Tony's hand, and wouldn't be aware if not for Tony squeezing his elbow every couple of seconds, as a meant to reassure him that he was there.

Percy found himself staring out the window, doing his best to ignore Tony Stark. He wasn't sure if Tony would mind or not, but he didn't seem to mind and Percy wasn't sure if he entirely cared or not. He wanted to speak and thank Tony, express his gratitude for taking him away from _that_ place, for pulling him away from the people that seemed to blame him. But speaking seemed too much of an effort, similar to breathing or existing.

He wanted to exist, to an extent. But he also doesn't want to exist, to somewhat of a greater extent.

"Percy." Tony's voice was quiet at first. It almost faded into the background. Joining the rest of the ambient noise. "Percy."

"What?" he sneered

"You're scratching yourself. You're bleeding."

He glanced down, seeing a small patch of blood-forming under his fingers. He was tempted to whip it away, ignore Tony, and pretend it didn't happen. He was also tempted to scratch a little harder.

Caught in the middle, he did nothing. Moving his hand up to rest away from his leg, going back to glaring out the window.

"You tell Sally, and you're dead."

"Son,"

"If you tell Sally, you're dead. Do you understand that, or am I going to have to repeat myself? I can disappear and no one will know how you died." The threat slipped out of his lips before he could stop himself, almost forgetting which world he was in – Mortal or Demigod.

Tony pursed his lips, turning back to the road, speeding the car up a bit.

 _I'm fully aware of what I'm doing._ Percy told himself, over and over again – completely losing the feeling in his hands and legs as he began to subconsciously scratch his legs. _I'm in perfect control._

 _I have everything under control._

 _Everything is completely, 100% fine._

 _It's totally fine._

 _It's fine._

* * *

Slowly, slowly he fell asleep. Hand falling limp on the side of his leg, arm collapsing under the weight of his head, head falling onto the window, bumping as the car powered down, back towards New York.

 _He was shaking, in fear or cold, he couldn't tell. Annabeth's hand was tight around his._

They were getting through this together _. He told himself._ We're both going to be fine, we're going to make it to the doors. We're both going to escape. We're both going to be safe. We're going to get out and fight and win.

 _"Percy," Her voice broke his stream of thoughts, hand tightening around his. "We need to rest."_

 _"It's too dangerous."_

 _"Seaweed Brain, we're in Tartarus, everywhere is dangerous."_

 _"I know, I know. Can we go near a river? I'd feel safer. I'd feel calmer." He begged, not realising how terrified he sounded. She squeezed his hand again._

 _"My ankle is hurting, Perce. It's really bad."_

 _"I'll carry you."_

 _"You need to rest too. Love, stop. Look at me." She pulled him around, hands on the side of his face, stroking his hair out of his eyes, fingers soft on his grimy cheeks. "I know you're scared. But the longer we stay awake, and the longer we keep pushing forward, the more exhausted we're going to be. We can't stand and fight if we're falling over from over-exerting ourselves."_

 _"I'm fine." He wheezed out, knowing deep-down she was right, but not feeling safe enough to take her in his arms and fall asleep together. "I'll carry you, come on."_

 _"Percy." Her voice hardened. "You need to rest more than me. You didn't sleep last night because you wanted to keep me safe, and the second I woke up you pulled me up to get going. You are going to rest."_

 _"I'm fine," he repeated, trying to move away from her to hide the tears forming in his eyes, but she held onto him with a steel grip._

 _"It's my turn to protect you and keep you safe. Sleep." She lifted a hand, whipping away the tears streaming down his face._

 _He wanted to turn away, keep walking. Push down the tears that normally didn't show at this time. But the exhaustion and pure fear and anxiety from being down here for months were showing. They were drained, tired, and near-death (though neither of them wanted to admit it)._

 _"Okay. But take my sword." Annabeth laughed softly, sitting down, pulling Percy onto her lap, head resting comfortably on her. She mumbled 'I love you's', hands playing in his matted hair._

 _"We're going to make it out of here. I swear it on –"_

 _"Don't. Just in case."_

 _"We're going to make it out, I promise."_

 _"I promise too."_

 _"Sleep now."_

"Percy," A hand was on him, shaking him gently, slowly bringing him back to the world of the awake.

"Hm?" Percy hummed lovingly, opening his eyes to the interior of the car he didn't know. He turned around in his sitting, surprise etching across his face at that Annabeth "What. What the fuck. Tony?" He gazed at the man sitting across from him in confusion.

Annabeth was going to kill him when she found out he was with Tony Stark and neglected to invite her,

"You fell asleep. We're back home now." Percy tilted his head at the man.

"Where am I?"

"Avengers tower."

"Why?"

Tony's look of horror and sorrow broke the floodgate to the memories, drowning him in everything he didn't want to remember, replacing the situations he had created in a short amount of time after his dream.

 _ **Annabeth was fucking dead.**_

* * *

A muscled man sat down next to him a smile too bright across his face.

"Steve Rogers," he held out his hand, clearly promoting Percy to take it, shake it, and introduce himself right back.

But he sat, staring at the hand. Unsure of whether to trust the smiling man next to him. Every monster red flag alert standing up, and waving around.

"He's good, kid," Tony said, offering a smile at the slightly defeated Steve Rogers, who still sat next to Percy, but slumping a little bit back. "That over there is Natasha Romanoff. She's in a bad mood so stay out of her way." The redhead lady nodded in their direction, before going back to what she was doing.

"Surprisingly, me too." Percy bit, Tony ignored him, pointing to an anxious-looking man in the kitchen, who was plating up a banana.

"That is Bruce Banner, also known as the Hulk." Bruce looked up, nodding at Percy, going back to making his banana. "As you know, I am Tony Stark, and the man walking in through the door is Clint Barton, the resident archery superstar."

"Pleasure! Percy Jackson, I assume?"

Percy stood up slowly, hand moving to Riptide; "who's asking?"

"Me?" Clint responded; confusion spread across his face. "Don't worry, Tony mentioned you a few days ago before you ran away. Do you want something to eat?"

"No."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes."

"When?" Tony pressed.

"Recently."

"You should eat something." Clint pipped up Percy threw him a glare.

"What's it to you?"

"You're in the tower now kid, you're family."

"So?" he spat back. "What's it to you that I fucking eat?"

"Your health,"

"I was talking to the Archer."

"Percy, please." Tony sounded exasperated. Exhausted.

"I'm going to go for a swim."

"No, you are not," Tony yelped, sliding in front of Percy, blocking his way, hands out to grab him if he ducked or made a run for it. "Please. At least an apple, or a banana?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Then chips! We have plenty of chips, I always them when I'm not hungry." He was essentially begging him at this point. Percy wanted to smack him, push him away for forcing him to eat, for guilting him into doing something _she_ couldn't do.

 _She'd want you to eat._ A little voice whispered.

He knew she would be insanely pissed if she was witnessing this. Which is potentially what hurt the most. She couldn't be here to hit him over the head, give him a pep talk and sit across from him until he downed two bowls of blue pasta. She'd chat to him as he ate, distracted him from whatever he was talking about.

She'd done that a lot.

Comforted him when he didn't want to focus on eating, chatting and rambling about architecture so he'd have something to listen to instead of himself eating. She'd even call him when she was away in Olympus designing it, or away with her Mortal Family, chatting as they both ate dinner, even though it was either too early for her, or too late for him.

 _She'd want you to eat._

"I'll have that banana." He voiced. Tony looked positively ecstatic, moving around to grab a banana off the fruit basket, jobbing over and presenting it to Percy.

"Enjoy."

He didn't until register what was happening for the next couple of hours, situating himself next to the window, watching the traffic below. Occasionally glancing out at the Avengers as they talked. He caught a few words, focusing enough to understand they were planning for missions.

Catching enough to understand their plan wasn't as well-thought-out as they would have liked, comparing to Annabeth and his plans.

He and her could have planned a better idea within five minutes and this was taking five hours.

"Anything to add, Jackson?" The redhead woman bites, raising an eyebrow at Percy. He shrugged in response.

"No." he said, clearly, turning his head back to look out at the traffic below again.

 _Fall._

 _It's easy. Just smash the glass. I'm sure it's easy enough._

He shook his head. He couldn't.

He was fine. He wasn't suicidal.

He, Percy Jackson, was not suicidal. He was one of the only three demi-gods in existence to escape Tartarus mostly unscathed. He was one of seven. He was the chosen one.

He couldn't be suicidal.

Not him.

"Perseus Jackson?" A loud booming voice broke his thoughts. He turned around, hand resting on Riptide as the figure came into view.

He was a god. Or at least powerful. He could tell that within seconds of seeing the man. He glowed, this almost golden, white colour. He had a smile that too closely resembled his fathers.

"Yes?"

"It is an honour, truly. There are many tales told of your adventures."

"Are there just?"

"Of course!" The figure beamed. "You and Annabeth are loved among my people. Your stories of strength and bravery are told to all the young children, and demi-gods. I am sorry about, _there_. If you need anything to help, truly. Now, I must ask. Where is Annabeth Chase? I have talked to her once or twice, and I miss her presences. She is a lovely girl."

"She's dead." Percy hissed.

The figure stepped back, eyes narrowing at this news.

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. What do you want? What do all of you fucking want? Everyone's fucking staring at me! Fuck off."

"Perseus…"

"What even are you? A fucking god?"

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please leave a review or favourite the story. It truly means a lot to me to get reviews, and it means a lot to a good majority of authors on here and other writing sites!**

 **I hope you enjoyed**

 **~ Georgia**


	7. HNSCC

**7\. HSNCC – the 1975**

 **This story contains triggering content. It is going to deal with depression, grief, death, suicidal thoughts, descriptive anxiety, and sex. Please read at your discretion.**

 **Stay safe, and please do not read if you know this is going to trigger you.**

 **Thank you for sticking with me.**

 **Enjoy:**

* * *

"Percy," The figure's voice was calm. Soft.

"Who are you!" Percy snapped, stepping forward, pulling Annabeth's dagger out without noticing it. The figure didn't step back, but the rest of the Avengers did. Eyes all glued to the scene erupting in front of them. All the reasonable voices in his head screamed to stand down, to step down. All but one, the one screaming to keep yelling and demanding answers. "How do you know Annabeth? How do you know me?"

 _It's a monster._

 _He's probably just a demigod._

 _NO, a monster_.

"Perseus, stand down."

"Why should I? Tell me who you are, or gods help you." He took another step forward, dagger carefully touching the figure's neck. The figure said nothing for a second. A second too long. Percy pushed the dagger a little closer, digging in, a tiny bit of blood seeping out onto the dagger. "Who are you?"

"Thor."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Sure, sure. Who sent you from Tartarus?"

"No one, Perseus. I'm a Norse god, the god of thunder and lightning. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of us, as we live away from your earth, unlike your gods."

The room was surrounded in dark, rumbling thunder.

"Just saying!" Thor rumbled back, the thunder responding again.

"You're a God? You aren't making this up? You're a God."

"Yes. I thought – "

"Yeah, yeah! I'm just really over finding out NEW GODS EXIST ALL THE TIME!" Percy roared, glaring up at the sky. "When I tell you, the last, the _last_ thing I need is finding out there are more gods, I mean it. What's next, the Christian God exists? Fucking Jesus is going to appear from the sky and take all my sins?"

"No, he's made up. Entirely by ancient Egyptian slaves, actually."

"Of course," Percy grumbled. "Why are you here?"

"These are my friends! I heard that you were staying here, and I heard of a new prophecy –"

"A what?" Percy hissed. Thor took a step back, glancing around the room, only seeing his slightly hesitant friends around the pair. "A new prophecy? Let me guess, a child of the big three, specifically a child of Poseidon, whose name starts with P and ends with ercy Jackson? Or! Let me guess, did fucking Hera kill my girlfriend? She fucked with me and Annie before why not again! Just kill one of us to get the job done yeah! Because that's the only way we're going to get shit down, is fucking manipulative children. Although we could always just fucking _ask_ for help. But no. NO! We have to manipulate these children into working with us and cleaning up our shit, and our mistakes because _we're fucking pathetic_ , and can't do anything _for themselves._ "

"Calm yourself," Thor spoke, hand reach out, gripping Percy's shoulder tightly, pulling him back from his growing, and rounding anger, revealing the chaos that he had caused in the room they were standing in. Lamps and couches pushed to the walls, the rest of the Avengers having left. "We can go to Olympus."

* * *

"Hey!" Percy shouted, marching down the throne room to the shocked gods, his father and Athena sharing worried glances away from the eyes of the fuming boy. "Zeus, I'm talking to you and your idiotic wife. Did either of you and I'm talking to _you_ Hera, have anything to do with Annabeth's death? As you so seem to love meddling with all demigods lives, seemly especially mine and Annabeth's."

"I did not."

"For some reason, I don't believe you!"

"She did not have involvement, Perseus," Athena spoke, interrupting the demigod on his rant. "If she had, I would have already dealt with her myself."

Percy's anger didn't deplete at this, fists scrunching harder, nails digging into his palm, hurting ever so slightly. The pain only making him angrier

"I – I could have had months more with her. But I didn't because of your stupid fucking quest, _Hera_." Percy sneered, glaring daggers at the goddess, the rest of the throne room sitting in silence, unmoving. Shared, worried glances between the few that were out of Percy's sight, flickering between the seething boy, and the goddess that was sitting back, a little too uncomfortably in her chair.

"Stand down," Zeus boomed, standing up from his chair. "You are talking to a goddess, need I remind you."

"I don't really care, to be perfectly honest." Percy spat, turning his anger on Zeus. "I really, truly couldn't give a flying fuck! Need I remind you that my girlfriend is dead, that the woman who was redesigning Olympus is dead, in case you can't remember. You know, the very woman who saved the world not once, but twice. But not that that matters, you have hundreds more demigods ready to serve, and ready to help. What's the loss of one?"

"No one is saying they aren't grieving the loss of Ms Chase," Zeus replied, his voice low and dangerous

"At most, its Athena."

"At most, its everyone. We know what Annabeth has done for this world. We are grateful for what she has done."

"Bullshit! Considering I've heard rumours of _another_ fucking prophecy. And I can already predict it includes me, and the death of Annabeth?" He knew, deep down, he needed to stop. But he was already on a roll, and the growing anger and pain in his hands were pushing him over the line. "Wait, wait. Lemme guess, her death was required yeah? That her death was important to push the rest of us to band together with the fucking, the Norse gods?

"Or shall we chuck the Egyptian in there too for shits and gigs! Because why not at this point! I can't even think of more gods to add, but we could fucking try, couldn't we? So, lets review." He was screaming at himself to shut up, but he couldn't. He paced up towards Zeus, knowing he should stop on his heels, and break in front of his father.

But he didn't.

"Lets! I saved the world at 16, so did Annabeth. Then! Not even six months after, we got thrown into another war, of which we didn't even understand was happening because I just got taken without my consent, by the way, thrown into Alaska. And was in a god induced coma until I was awoken, _with no memories_ , and forced to train by a Roman wolf god. What an adventure! And while I was there, Annabeth stayed and trained all of _your children_ for a war that was predicted! And _then,_ _ **then**_ _,_ we got back together, met, I got my memories back, and then we got thrown into hell, which not even Hades could fucking handle, mind you!

"So, what a bonding experience for Annabeth and I. Fast forward a little, which we spent a year down there, just letting you know that. But I'll skip the gory details to the end of the giant war when finally, _finally,_ we were freed of all demigod responsibilities and existed as our own, as essentially mortals in our own world. And for the first time, ever, we were both okay. And we weren't scared. And of course, of course. Just by past experiences, and my knowledge of prophecies and the knowledge and sheer just purely amazing, fun, life-changing events, I just know that she was required to die in order for the world to be saved. In fact, who the fuck else would want to try and end the world? How many ancient gods or giants or primordials have you pissed off? Actually, no. I take that back -"

"Stand down, son." Poseidon's voice was soft, his father's hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

"I'm not finished yet." Percy hissed, pulling away, taking a step closer to Zeus, who was standing up at this point, almost toe to toe with the demigod. "Where was I, before my father so kindly interrupted me. Oh yes! I don't care who is trying to end the world, or who is going to try to end the world because I'm done. I'm not going to help; I'm not even going to entertain the idea of helping. Hear that everyone?" He shouted, turning away from Zeus, nearly hitting the god with his shoulder as he did so. "I'm DONE. I, Perseus Jackson, am DONE helping." He turned back to Zeus, taking another step, only just now realising the height of the god, realising that he wasn't that much taller than him. Realising he really should take a step back, and not be in the most powerful god's face. "I'm over saving the world. I refuse to lift a single fucking finger or toe to save the world this time. I quit, take me off the fucking roll."

"Perseus –" Zeus spoke his voice calmer this time. A vein was popping in the gods head, breaking the composure he was trying to convey to the rest of the gods. Trying to show the gods he wasn't angry at the demigod who was on his toes, screaming at him.

Percy paused for a second, mulling over what he had just said.

"No." He said, turning on his heel, already marching out of the throne room. "I'm done." He stopped, turning back, marching towards Zeus again, who had stepped forward, moving to follow or grab Percy. "I don't want anyone to contact me. No one. Not a demigod, not a god, not Chiron, not even my father. No one. No one can Iris Message me, no one can even breathe in my direction. If I get one whiff of a god, a monster or a prophecy, I'm going to come back here, and tear Olympus down brick by brick. I quit being a demigod, and I refuse to even remember I am one. Goodbye."

* * *

"How dare he! The spite of it!" Hera hissed, standing up as the demigod left the room, the doors slamming behind him. "How dare he suggest I have had something to do with it!"

"It's not like you have the best track record. I understand why he would think that." Athena replied, with equal venom on her tongue. "He's grieving, need I remind you, Hera."

"As are we all."

"You are not grieving your love." Aphrodite hissed, standing up. She took a second, glaring at the other goddess, all while straightening her dress, calming herself down from the burst of passion. "I understand your anger," she begun, calmly, sitting down as she continued to speak, "he is being manic and irrational, but we can not sin a boy who has just lost the woman he loves. Especially to something so mundane as a car crash."

"You have no place in this disagreement, Aphrodite. This is a matter that is beyond you."

"It is not, Zeus. It is beyond you. For you have no sympathy for those hurting and resort to attacking others who try to emphasis. You are angry and don't understand why or how a demigod could stand up to you. He is grieving, and he is hurting. Something most of you do not understand."

"In case you missed it, our strongest demigod just walked out of the throne room and told us all to stick it up our asses."

"Thank you, Aries! I would not have guessed that if it weren't for you." Aphrodite sneered, standing up, addressing her lover with returned anger. "I can clearly see that he has left, but that is not my priority, nor should it be any of yours. You are all focusing on the wrong thing, of which I'm not going to say, because it's entirely obvious, and if you can't see it, then you are too stupid to have it spelt out for you. My condolences, Athena, the same for you, Poseidon. I am here for either of you." Aphrodite stepped off her throne, disappearing in a cloud of pink smoke.

"The idiot." Zeus sneered, earning glares from Athena and Artemis.

"She isn't wrong. We are focusing on the wrong thing." Artemis mumbled.

"Our strongest demigod is out in the mortal world, running around with a sword, and smelling for all monsters to hunt. He is dangerous. We have lost our great asset. She is focusing on the wrong thing." Zeus replied, glaring at the maiden goddess.

"I thought you had more sense, but clearly I was mistaken. The hunt is waiting, and this meeting was thoroughly pointless. I extend my condolences to you, Athena."

"Thank you." Athena nodded towards the other goddess as she disappeared.

"The next god to disappear is going to lose 10 years of their lifetime." Zeus roared, finally sitting back in his seat, vein still popping from his encounter with Percy.

"Zeus, your worry is needed. But, and as much as I dislike to agree with Aphrodite, it is misplaced. Perseus will not calm down soon, and we cannot force him to calm down. He needs to remain away from us, and from this world until he is ready. If we bother him too early, it could be dangerous for us, for him, and the world. He will return to us, in time."

"I don't think you entirely understand what's going on either, Athena." Poseidon groaned, lifting himself from his chair, regaining the composure he lost at seeing his son seething and screaming at the gods. "I too believe that he will come back, but that is not the issue. The issue is that. I'm not even sure what the issue is, but we needn't worry about him in the world, we need to worry about him grieving."

"He is dangerous regardless."

"Do not call my son dangerous, when you have two powerful children, one running around with Artemis, and another running around with the Romans. They are dangerous, especially considering the temper your daughter holds."

"And your son is emotionally unstable."

"MEN!" Athena roared, standing between the two, glaring at the bickering brothers. "All of your children are equally as dangerous. Perseus will be fine for the time being, he is with strong people –"

"Mortals."

"They are strong none the less. He will be fine, and the earth will be fine. He needs time, Zeus. He does not need our interference. The more we interfere with his affairs and his life, the longer it will take for him to come back and forgive us. Hera, I don't think he is ever going to forgive you. It is better if you are never in the Throne Room when Perseus is here. Poseidon, I would like to arrange a meeting with you." Athena finished, turning to the sea god, who was not sporting a calm face.

"Likewise."

* * *

 **Hehehe, I had a lot of fun writing the gods part of it, so I might throw some chapters in here and there. I also don't hate Aphrodite, and strangely reading Hippolytus (a Greek play) made me hate her less when I meant to hate her more, but! The play shows her power and addresses her as an intelligent and really vengeful, petty goddess. So, I might play around a little bit with that in this, but who knows.**

 **Hope you enjoyed**


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